


Serena’s Delusion

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Comfort Sex, Delusion, Despair, F/M, Longing, Lust, Murder, Suicide, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen
Summary: Set after Season 2 finale. Serena and Nick are left in the wreckage of June's departure. They try to rebuild a life.





	1. Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I am really surprised with how this turned out. More of a tragedy than I would normally write.
> 
> This explores Serena’s perspective, her inner world. Explore her regrets. Her sexual desire. Yvone’s incredible acting gave us a fascinating taste of this world.
> 
> Nick is the same character. Primal animal magnetism. Oozing sexual masculine perfection out of every pore. Not aware of his effect on women. Humble. Hard working. Quiet. Respectful. Sensitive to the pain of others. Wanting to help people. Protector of the weak and vulnerable. More power than anyone realizes. Cleaning up messes, fixing broken things. 
> 
> I don't ship them if June is still around. But I could see Serena becoming obsessed with him, turning to Nick for comfort as her relationship with Fred crumbles.
> 
> I’ve written it so she is lost in her own delusion. Mistaking his kindness for desire. 
> 
> This fic also fills my urgent need for Fred and Serena to get eat a big fat karma sandwich.
> 
> I think Gilead is a tragic world. In dystopia nothing ends well.

 

 

I dreamed up Gilead. I convinced the men to take our power from us. It was my wording. My passionate conviction- that inspired the sons of Jacob.

 

How could I have known...that I was building my own cage?

 

It is easy to sink into despair. To lay in the bed that I have made. To accept the punishment I designed. I deserve to suffer. I am to blame.

 

After the Mexican ambassador left that night I lay awake weeping helplessly. It was humiliating. To see so clearly how I have been fooled. I am a prisoner now. As much as Offred and Rita. Free only to knit. Not free pick out my own clothing. Not free to write. Not even free to read the word of God. 

 

When Fred was in the hospital I had a brief rush of freedom. Remembering the power of the written word. But that will likely never happen again. I felt empowered again as I spoke before the council. But Fred took that from me too. I don’t even have Nicole anymore. No allies. No hope. I have nothing.

 

I lay here and think of all the ways I could end my life. I know it would be a sin. But I think God would understand. I know he forgave Eden her transgressions. She had Him in her heart. Maybe I could make it look like an accident. If I died with prayers of repentance on my lips He would hear me. I am partial to the fantasy of the frozen river. I would go for a walk to the bridge. Slip into the waters one night. Never return. No mess that way. Or I could ask for toxic fertilizers - mix them into a drink and hope they are lethal. But that leaves a chance for survival. Which I do not want.

 

I could challenge Fred again. He has become increasingly violent. His heart has hardened completely. I could run or steal or commit some unforgivable crime. Humiliate him, emasculate him in public. But I am not that brave.

 

I’ll have to wait for the cigarettes to do their slow damage. Please God. Take me. Bring me home. I long for your grace. I will do your work in heaven. Give me your mercy.

 

 


	2. Embers

 

 

Since Offred left with Nicole the house lays dormant. Fred is always gone on business. He sleeps at Jezebel’s most nights. I lie in my room praying for death. I actually am hungry today. I bathe. Looking in the mirror I can see I’ve lost weight. I’ve always been slender but this is extreme. Unattractive. Ribs showing now. Arm bones. Breasts tiny, stomach caving inward. I am thankful men can not see my body.

 

I used to enjoy business clothes. I always wore suits and pants. Symbols of power. But now I am a doll. A placeholder. Easily replaced. Valued only for my compliance. Fred wouldn’t even notice if it was Naomi or Laura in my dresses. As long as they behaved. It would actually be easier for him. To have an obedient wife. Without ambition. God forgive me for my pride. Make me worthy of my husband’s affection.

 

I open the closet. A line of identical emerald green dresses. A rebellious anger rises in me. I can’t force myself to put on the uniform today. Fred isn’t even here. No one is here to see me. I’m going to slip down to the kitchen of my house and get something to eat. It is my home after all. My domain. Everyone else can ‘kiss my butt’ as we used to say. I smile. For the first time in months. The vernacular makes me laugh. The power of words.

 

I pull out my silk bathrobe. Wrap it around my nakedness. Walk down the stairs. Open the fridge. I am pleased that Rita has kept it well stocked. I make a sandwich. Pour some water. Settle at the table.

 

The plants in my dining room are all dead. I’ve neglected them for months. I feel a pang of guilt. I’ve been so focused on my misery that I have neglected these things that need on my care. I’ll get back in the garden tomorrow. Maybe that will bring me out of this depression and get my spirits up. I feel happy thinking about this.

 

I hear heavy footsteps on the walkway.

Nick walks in the back door.

 

After an awkward silence he says “...I’m sorry. I’ll go. I was just going to make a sandwich.”

 

I smile.

 

“No please take mine, I’ll make another.”

 

He stands too still, hand on the door. Eyes on the floor. I realize he is averting his gaze. I remember I am in my dressing gown. I blush. Embarrassed.

 

“I’ll get dressed. Please stay.”

 

I rush to my room and don my uniform. When I return I am relieved to see him eating. I fix myself another meal and join him. It feels so good to be in the same room with someone. I’ve been so alone. We eat in silence. I ask if he can help me with the garden the following day.

 

He pauses.

 

“Please?”

 

He nods. Clears his dish, washes and dries it, and leaves through the backdoor.

 


	3. Desire

 

 

I find myself watching him while he works in the garden. There is a tenderness to it. He loves helping things grow. Even these plants. I wonder if this reminds him of Nicole. I bet he misses her as much as I do.

 

Nick stands and starts walking back toward his apartment. I stand and ask him where he is going. He pauses. “I was going to get a cigarette”. I reach into my gardening basket and pull out my pack and lighter. Hold them out to him. He hesitates. I put them on the ground. Return to my work. I hear him walk over, stoop down, light up, and return to his work. I put them back in my bag.

 

Each day we meet outside at 10. We work until 5. Rita brings us lunch at noon. We work in silence. When I smoke, I hand him one too. So he doesn’t have ask. So he doesn’t have to leave. I think he needs this as much as I do. The companionship. The physical work. Respite from the memories. From the pain.

 

I don’t want to run out of projects. Once we’ve cleared the dead plants I outline a complete overhaul of the gardens. I have him order supplies. I don’t realize until later… that I ordered heavy things… because I love watching him move them. His tan skin rippling over his tight muscles. His shirt becoming damp with sweat. His breathing heavy but measured. I watch him from across the garden. Moving deliveries of stone one wheelbarrow load at a time. Carrying heavy wooden beams across his shoulder. Re-bricking the paths. He is very handsome.

 

He leaves most days at 5 to clean up and drive Fred to Jezebel’s. What he does there is his business. He is a single man. Some nights as I lay awake in my cold bed, I do wonder. What Nick does at Jezebel’s. What it would be like with him.

 

I remember his ceremony with Offred. So different from her ceremonies with Fred. Fred averted his eyes. Moved only his hips. When Nick entered Offred I heard an audible gasp. He must be...better endowed...than Fred. I blush at the thought. I saw Nick looking in Offred’s eyes. Connecting with her. His chest close to hers. Two becoming one flesh. When she sat up she was breathless and flushed. She had enjoyed it. He had pleased her. In such a short time. Imagine if they had been been alone. Would it be like Fred and I in the old days? Too bad I will never know. I may never be touched by a man again.

 

I find myself thinking about him more and more. Remembering the way he looked at Offred around the house. After I forced them together. He truly cared for her. She was more than breed stock to him. He protected her at his own peril. Fred told me how he had physically restrained him the night she escaped. My heart races thinking of Nick overpowering Fred. Assuming the role of alpha male in the House. Even for that split second. A real man putting Fred in his place.

 

I look down at my missing finger. I put all of my faith in Fred. Thinking he would be a strong, protective husband. But he hurt me. Again and again. I put my faith in the wrong man.

 

My fantasies shift from the past to the future. Nick is fertile. He can make healthy children. If we got a fertile handmaid, the baby would be ours. He would love and protect it as his own. Like I would. We could make a real family. As a God intended.

 

Eden wasn’t enough for him. Not sexual, too pious.

 

Offred was the opposite. Too sexual, not a lady. Offred didn’t want to stay. Even after he gave her a child.

 

I want to stay. I am faithful. Loyal. Strong. Independent. Nick would love me for that. We could reform Gilead together. If it had been Nick on the council instead of Fred- when I read Eden’s bible-  he would have been proud of my bravery. He would have convinced the men to change the laws. He would have fought them himself if need be. He would have taken punishment in my stead. He would never have allowed them to hurt me.

 

I am beautiful. I could give him everything he needs. If he can help me get rid of Fred.

 

Offred is gone. Eden is gone.

 

I’ll have to do this right. To have a real chance.

 

He would need to be promoted to commander first. Before we dispose of Fred.

 


	4. Bruised and Battered

**Chapter 4: Bruised and Battered**

 

Fred whips me again. For speaking out of turn. It has become a weekly occurrence. I suspect it is overflow rage from his stress at work. Tonight he also slaps my face. Hard. I go to the kitchen to get away from him. I look through the cabinets for Rita’s hidden brandy bottle. Thankfully she keeps that stocked up too. I pour myself a glass and close the doors to the dining room. I sit and cry quietly. Head in my hands.

 

Nick comes in the back door. “Mrs. Waterford, I saw you were up.” He looks at my bruised cheek. A shadow crosses his face. His voice changes. “What happened?”

 

I pause. I am property. Men shouldn’t ask about my injuries. As my husband’s employee he shouldn’t question Fred’s actions. I sit in silence.

 

“...Serena…”  His voice softens. My heart skips a beat hearing him use my first name so intimately. “Who did this to you?”

 

Tears run down my cheeks, unbidden. My shoulders shake silently. He pulls a chair beside me and puts his hand on my back, right on a welt from the belt. I wince and whimper involuntarily. I wish I was stronger. Nick walks quickly to the freezer, fills a hand towel with ice and stands behind me, holding it in place.

 

I thank him and take it from him.

 

“You’d better go. I don’t want to give Fred more to be angry about.”

 

Nick walks toward the back door. Pauses. Trying to decide if he should say the next part. He comes back and kneels beside me.

 

“Serena. If he is going to hurt you again come get me.”

 

“Come to your apartment?”

 

“Yeah. I’m up late reading most nights. Can’t sleep much anymore. Too many nightmares.”

 

I smile through my tears. “Me too.”

 


	5. Sanctuary

I take him up on his offer the next night when Fred chokes and slaps me. I forget what for. His drinking has made him meaner and meaner. I'm genuinely frightened for my safety.

 

I knock quietly. Nick answers the door, book in hand. Dressed in his white undershirt and black cargo pants. He looks worried.

 

I keep my eyes on the floor. I am ashamed to be here asking for comfort. For protection. From my own husband. Nick's face turns to a mask of anger when he sees my black eye. I’ve always wanted a man to look at me like that. Protectively.

 

He pulls on his guardian shirt and grabs his gun.

 

I stand between him and the door. He looks confused.

 

“I don’t need Fred to die tonight. I need to forget him. I need to feel like I’m more than a punching bag.”

 

He pauses. “Fred isn't good for you, Serena. He's a bad man. He…. isn’t faithful to you. I know that from Jezebel’s”.

 

I nod. “I know. I try not to think about it but I know. We haven’t been...intimate...in years.” It's true. I feel ashamed. Admitting my celibacy to someone who oozes sexual confidence. I feel like a silly child. “I hate him. I pray God takes me so I can escape this hell.”

 

Nick steps closer. “Don’t say that.”

 

“It’s true. I'm so lonely. I want to die. Luckily the way things are escalating with Fred it won’t be long now.”

 

His shoulders stiffen. He walks to me. Boot steps heavy on the floorboards. Electricity in the air. I wonder if he feels it too. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could help you. No one should ever hurt you. You deserve better than that. You’re a good person. Smart, funny, beautiful. You deserve better.”

 

“You can hold me Nick. I give you permission.”

 

“Serena. I can’t. Even if I wanted to. You know that. It is a death sentence to touch a commander’s wife.”

 

“Not if you are a commander. Not if it’s your wife.” The words come out before I can stop them. I clench my eyes shut, blush bright red and turn to leave. Humiliated. Horrified that I have let my deepest desire become known. I rush to the door, but it’s locked. My hands shake trying to get out of here. I should never have come.

 

He steps close behind me.  I feel his fingers trace up my arm. It’s like his fingertips are made of electricity. I couldn’t say more if I had to. I’m frozen. It’s all I can do to breathe. My whole body electrified. Hairs standing on end. An embarrassing warmth between my legs. I turn and look at him. His face reading mine. Finding all of the heartache. The longing. The broken parts I’ve hidden all these years. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me slowly, sweetly on the cheek. Just once. He returns to his windowsill, to his reading.

 

The contract is made. I leave. I know what I have to do.

 


	6. What Have You Done?

I plant the idea in Fred’s mind. To promote Nick. He actually thinks it is his idea. He makes the arrangements. Fred invites Nick to his study to give him the good news.

 

Nick finds me in the kitchen. “Serena. I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. I'll be leaving soon. To start my own household. You’ve always been kind to me. Please know I won’t forget you.”

 

That night, I slit Fred’s wrists while he sleeps. He wakes and I watch the life bubble out of him as he bleeds out in our bed. The cuts are too deep. It is quick. I kiss him goodbye. I clean myself up. Put on my nightgown and silk bathrobe. I run across the lawn breathless. I can’t wait to tell Nick the good news. That we are finally free to be together like he wants. I climb the stairs to his apartment. He answers the door with a smile on his face. He already knows. I have never been so happy. He looks at me questioningly. “Whats up Serena?”

 

“I’m yours now, Nick.”

 

His face grows pale. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I killed Fred, Nick. Like you wanted me to.”

 

He raises his voice. “What the hell are you talking about? What happened?” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me once. Searching my face.

 

He looks down at my hands, the bloodstains under my nails still present.

 

Horror crosses his face.

 

“My God Serena, what have you done?”

 


	7. Clean Up

Nick uses his connections to arrange pick up of the body. The black van arrives at 2am. Nick pulls on black gloves. He takes the body bag into the house alone. 15 minutes later he emerges with the body over his shoulder. Goes back in with a black duffle bag. Emerges, puts it in the back of the van. Closes the door, hits the side twice. The van drives off. He enters the house. Dresses the bed with fresh sheets.  He prepares a letter in Fred’s office. In the letter Fred says he is running off to meet up with his missing handmaid, with whom he is having an affair. Also noting he is a member of Mayday. Nick wipes the house down with alcohol to destroy fingerprints.

 

He comes back outside. Removes his gloves. Lights a cigarette. After a few drags his hand stops shaking. He runs his hand through his black hair. He tells me they will incinerate it- the body, the sheets, the murder weapon- with no questions asked. Eyes have way more power than I’d ever imagined. I thought Fred and the other Commanders ran the country. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

 

The next morning Nick calls Fred in missing. The guardians descend on our home. Asking questions, searching the property. Rita truly has no idea what happened. Her ignorance sells it. I give them the brief rehearsed answers Nick fed me. There is no evidence except what he planted for them to find. It’s frightening how good Nick is at this. They tell me about Fred’s letter. I weep. They think from grief, but truly it is relief. That I am not in chains.

 


	8. The End of Love. The End of Hope.

When they leave, Nick returns to his apartment. I stay in my room. We return to the way it was before. Except I am husbandless. An un-woman. Worse off than before. And Nick is a commander now. I see him packing his things into the car. I watch him out the window. He looks up at me sometimes too. 

 

How could I have been so wrong about him? What will become of me? Will he ask me to come with him? Could we be together? I feel like such a fool. 

 

I go to the bathtub. I pull out my razor and bare my wrist. I know God will forgive me for my transgressions. 

 


	9. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate storyline- where will it lead? Can Nick learn from his mistakes with Eden? Can he prevent more needless loss of life? Can Serena heal his broken heart? Can they make a family from the wreckage of their lives?

I blink away the unbidden tears. Steady myself with one last deep breath.  Please God. Send your angel to guide my hand. Help me cut deep and straight. Deliver me to your kingdom.

 

I hear footsteps on the stairs, and Nick’s voice.

 

“Serena? ….Are you up here?”

 

The razor slips from my trembling grasp. I slice my finger scrambling to conceal it. Crimson drops of blood stain the white tile floor.

 

He opens the door. His eyes grow wide, eyebrows knit together with concern. He rushes to me and inspects my wrists.

 

“What happened? Are you ok??”  

 

“...it was just an accident.”  

 

He looks at me like he is seeing me for the first time. “What were you going to do?” His face a mix of horror and sadness. I feel a brief flutter in my cold heart. Someone cares if I live or die.

 

His face changes. Like a decision has been made.

 

“I was coming to say goodbye. I’m leaving for my new posting. But I think you should come with me. You can stay with me while you get things figured out.”

 

“Are you sure?”  

 

He nods. “There’s no one to look out for you here. And I don’t know anyone over there. No sense in both of us being lonely.”

 

“Thank you for your kindness, Nick. But I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

“You’re not. You took care of me when I had nothing.” He holds out his hand and helps me up. “We’re leaving soon. Meet me outside when you’re ready.”

 

It doesn’t take long to pack. I have no possessions of my own. I close the door behind me one last time. I walk to the waiting car- slip into the back seat. As we pull out through the gate I look out the window- and say goodbye to this tragic place.

 

\-------------

Today was Nick’s first day with the other commanders. The meetings must have run late. I hear the car pulling down the drive at 9pm and go to the foyer to greet him.

 

He looks handsome in his new uniform. This promotion suits him.

 

I take his coat and briefcase with a smile, welcoming him home.

 

He looks uncomfortable.

 

“You don’t have to do that, Serena. You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

 

“Forgive me. Old habits die hard.”

 

“Do you have a minute? There’s something we need to talk about.”

 

“Of course.”

\--------------

Dark wooden bookshelves line the walls of the office. Firelight plays off his angular features as he pours me a scotch to match his.

 

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, takes one between his lips, lights it and hands it to me. He lights one for himself and takes a long drag. We sit there in silence for a few minutes while the chemicals take effect.

 

“How was your first day?”

 

“Way too many meetings.”

 

“It must have been tiring. I know you’re accustomed to solitude.” I can tell something is on his mind. “Would you like to tell me more about it?”

 

He looks at me. “Yeah.” He finishes his drink, sets the glass down.

 

“I don’t know how to say this.”  He closes his eyes, rubs his forehead with his fingers.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

He pauses, like he hates what he is about to say.

 

“They won’t let you stay with me if we aren’t married.”

 

The words hang in the air with the wisps of smoke.

 

I look down at my hands. There is nothing to say. He’s already made it very clear he doesn’t want to be with me romantically.

 

“That was the main topic today. What to do with you.”

 

I nod. What to do with me. Like a bothersome bit of baggage, an unwanted thing.

 

“In Gilead, the infertile and unmarried are considered “un-women”. No exceptions.”  

 

He takes one last drag off his cigarette and stamps it out.

 

I set my glass down, stand and smooth my dress. Trying to retain some semblance of dignity as I am rejected from my last chance at a meaningful existence. I try to still my trembling lip.

 

“I understand perfectly, Nick. I will pack my things and be ready for transport to the colonies in the morning.”

 

I turn to leave the study before the tears come and make a fool of me.

 

He stands up, blocking my departure with his body.

 

“No, no.  That’s not what I’m saying. I’m sorry, I’m so bad at this. Please stay. I’m sorry.” He runs his hand over his hair.

 

“I quoted them the verse from Deuteronomy about marriages broken by death, not dishonor. Remarriage is permitted in that circumstance. There is precedent in Gilead for remarriage after death of a spouse.”

 

I feel rage rising. “Who would they have me marry, Nick? I think I’d prefer the colonies to another sadist like Fred.” I try to push past him.

 

He takes my hands, his voice a whisper. “I told them I’d do it.”

 

It takes a minute for me to process what he just said. I suddenly feel very dizzy. I sit back down. He takes the seat across from me.

 

“Why? Why would you do that? I don’t understand.”

 

“We both have to remarry as soon as possible. We have no choice. I can’t marry another stranger, Serena. It was awful. Eden and I were a bad fit. I had no attraction to her, no affection for her, and I neglected her as a result. I will regret that for the rest of my life. If I had protected her, looked out for her- she might still be alive. This would be different. In this house we’d be equals. No one above the other. I want you to read, write, have things of your own-come and go as you please- this would be a safe place for you. I want you to be happy.”

 

What he speaks of would be treason. Heresy. But it would have been normal before Gilead. It sounds like freedom. It is all I wanted from Fred.

 

“I promise to treat this like a real marriage. I promise to protect you. Help you in any way I can. And I hope we will grow to be better friends. Maybe more some day.”

 

He swallows hard.

 

“I need you to know. That I was in love with the handmaid. Not at first. But after we...after that day in my apartment. We were connected. We made a child together. But she’s gone. I lost my first child, and the woman I loved.”

 

“Would they give us a handmaid?”

 

“The same bible verse says: ‘When a man is newly married, he shall not go out with the army or be charged with any related duty. He shall be free at home one year to be happy with the wife whom he has married.’ They’ll give us a year.”

 

I nod.

 

“Speaking of that.” He clears his throat. “The first time with the handmaid, and again with Eden- felt wrong. Sex shouldn’t just be for procreation and it shouldn’t be forced or prescribed. It’s sacred. It’s supposed to be for connection and comfort.”

 

I smile. “So it says in the Song of Solomon.” I remember quoting it to Eden on her wedding night. Poor girl.

 

He nods. “Exactly. So let’s not start trying for a baby right away. Let’s take our time, give this a real shot. Let’s wait until it feels right.”

 

“Ok.” I say.

 

“Ok.”

 

I think back to Nick’s last wedding. I pushed him and Offred together in the first place. Then ripped them apart when it suited me. I remember their faces that day. Sick, tortured, pale. It was cruel what I did to him. To all three of them. I wish I could take it back.

\----------------------------

It’s a small ceremony. Simple. When we get home I ask him to sleep upstairs with me. I know Naomi will ask if we slept together, and I don’t like lying. We climb into the bed separately and quickly doze off. It feels nice, safe. The closeness of him.

 

Later that night he rolls over. Throwing his arm around my waist. Fred used to do that in his sleep. It was called spooning in the time before. It feels nice. It must be near midnight. The room is pitch dark. I know it wasn’t intentional, but he hasn’t pulled away. Is he even awake? I arch my back just slightly, pushing my soft backside into his lap. He pulls my hips closer into him. I feel him growing hard. I feel myself getting wet and swollen. I’ll never get back to sleep without relief. I’d wake him if I touched myself here, and I’d wake him if I get up and leave the room. I’m going to have to wake him either way.

 

Something about the darkness makes me bold. I roll to face him.

 

I slide my hand down, under his boxers. Finding his massive erection. Fingertips exploring the soft curly hair, the scrotum. His breath warm in the darkness. I kiss his chest and surround his length with my hand. His body tenses and his breath catches.

 

“Is this ok?” I whisper

 

He nods, breathing heavily.

 

“Do you want me to stop?”

 

He shakes his head. “We just can’t get pregnant.”

 

I nod as I kiss his neck. I kiss his ear and nibble his earlobe. I whisper: “Just stay outside me”.

 

The small hairs on the back of his neck rise. He rolls me to my back. Pulls my gown open leaving me naked in the moonlight. Kisses my breasts before settling his hips against mine. The fabric of his underwear transmits our body heat. He kisses my lips for the first time. He tastes dark and sweet.

 

I explore his muscular back, hands moving down until they find the edge of his boxers. I run my fingers under the waistband. I pause. Silently checking in. Giving him a chance to pull away or stop me before I remove the barrier between us. Several breaths pass. No protest is given. I slide his shorts down slowly, just below his soft perfect ass. Freeing his rigid Manhood.

 

He presses his hips against me. Erection between us- skin on skin. He flexes his hips and slides against me. We pause, eyes clenched shut, breathing hard. He thrusts again, our skin slick and slippery. He adjusts his weight and buries his face in my neck as he finds a rhythm grinding against me.

 

He moans. Quietly at first but louder and louder. I whimper his name. We climb together slowly. The cries wrenched out of us with every move. Like slow perfect torture. Ecstasy to the point of pain. A steady crescendo until climax comes. Blinding and all consuming. A slow, throbbing, aching orgasm. Afterward, we lay still together in the darkness as our heartbeats slow.

 

He returns to his position behind me. Spooning me. Stroking my arm. Kissing my shoulder. Nuzzling his face against my back.

 

I think it happened like that.

 

Unless it was just a dream.


	10. Anything You Ask For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick will give Serena anything she asks for. Is she brave enough to ask for what she wants most?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this story for awhile- I wasn't sure I wanted Nick and Serena to hook up but yaknow what (in an alternate universe where June is gone forever) it could happen. There's only a little left in this story- I think they both know Gilead is messed up beyond repair-It's not what either of them wanted when they got involved. I'ma get them out, I promise.
> 
> I mainly like it as a character study of Nick. I'm obsessed with him. I just want him to be happy in whatever circumstance. He's a good man. He treats women well which is rare in this world.
> 
> I want to acknowledge QueenofArts and her fic "The Wife and The Guardian"- (chapter 3 of which is super hot) I'd never thought of them as a potential couple before that story. I wanted that in the official record. :)

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We fall into a routine. That first month it feels like Nick is always gone. He sleeps downstairs in his office. He gets up around daybreak to exercise. I sometimes hear the shower running after he comes back from his run. He’s gone for work by 7am and doesn’t come home until 10 or 11pm. I stop waiting up.

 

I have breakfast around 10am and spend my mornings in the garden. I spend afternoons in his office. I tell the Martha I’m cleaning and organizing for him. I set up a knitting station for show. But in truth I spend the time reading. I make a wish list of books I want. If I leave the name of a book on my desk, the book will appear on my chair the next week. He’s true to his word. Anything I ask for, he gets me. But I’m still so terribly lonely. What I really want is him, and I’m not brave enough to ask for that yet.

 

We spend time together on weekends. He joins me in the garden like before. We work in silence. He cleans up before dinner. I watch him walking to the house- shirt soaked with sweat- and I want to follow him upstairs. I want to follow him into the shower, wrap my arms around him- and close this gap between us. But I’m a coward. I don’t want to upset the delicate balance we have struck. After dinner we read together in his study. I keep my knitting on my lap incase the Martha knocks. But the door is locked and she never bothers us. We’ve moved our chairs side by side- sometimes our elbows touch. It’s in those moments that I wonder if he’s lonely too. If he ever thinks about me the way I think about him. The study becomes a sanctuary for us. It feels safe.

 

————

I saved one copy of my book. “A Woman’s Place.” From the purges. I removed the cover and glued it into a bible. I hid it in my room all of these years. I leave a copy on Nick’s desk.

 

I don’t see him much the following week. He continues his pattern- leaving early and returning late.

 

I know the commander’s meetings can’t be going this late every day. One day I call on Naomi around dinner time, and am surprised to see her husband home with her.

 

I wait up for Nick that night and ask him where he’s been. No anger. Just curiosity.

 

“Meetings” He says.

 

“With who? Commander Putnam was home at 5 tonight. I had dinner at his home.”

 

He considers his next statement. “People who are trying to make Gilead a better place.”

 

I nod. “Is there another woman?”

 

“No. No there’s not.” He looks embarrassed to admit this.

 

“I wouldn’t judge you. Men have to take care of their needs.”

 

He shakes his head- “Serena, no. I haven’t been with anyone else. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m a monogamist. I don’t mess around. I’m married. I’ve just been so busy.”

 

I nod and look at the floor.  “Do you find me attractive, Nick?”

 

He pauses. He looks surprised. “Serena... you know you’re beautiful.”

 

“Are you just saying that?”

 

He swallows. Shaking his head. Takes a step closer. “You’re beautiful. But what I find most attractive about you is your strength.” He looks down and sighs. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

 

I smile. “I just want to make sure someone is meeting your needs.” I take his hand. He nods. “You have needs too. We should take some time to relax. How about Friday? I’ll get some wine and music? Sound ok?”  I smile. “I’d like that. Very much.” He smiles back. “Ok. It’s a date.”

 

\---------------------

 

True to his word he returns around 3:30pm on Friday. He picked up steaks at the butcher, fresh vegetables for salad, baked potatoes- two bottles of expensive red wine. I cut a bouquet of fresh flowers for the table from our garden. He gives the Martha the night off and cooks dinner for us. Shirt sleeves rolled up, humming to himself. I sit sipping my wine. He looks over at me from time to time and smiles. I must admit- this is exactly what I wanted. All I had to do was ask.

 

A few hours later we are solidly drunk. Laughing hysterically. Learning all about each other’s likes and dislikes. He’s really funny for someone who never talks. I love his smile. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I could look at it forever. I want it to be the last thing I see when I leave this world.

 

I tell him I used to dance in college- that swing was my favorite style. He doesn’t believe me. I pull him up, into the study and have him put on a record. It’s not swing but it will have to do. I try to show him how to do a lift. He lifts me up, I wrap my legs around his waist, and we fall back into his leather chair laughing. We pause there. The wine makes me bold. I use my fingers to close his eyes. I whisper in his ear. “You can pretend I’m someone else if you want to.” He opens his eyes, shakes his head and whispers “I want it to be you, Serena. I don’t want anyone else.”

 

We kiss. Gently. Like strangers. Which in truth, I suppose we still are. His hands rest lightly on my hips.

 

Then something changes. It’s hard to explain- like a surge of electricity. I feel a pull. Like a tide changing directions. His grip tightens, pulling my hips down into him. Palms radiating heat through the fabric of my dress. His breathing quickens and grows shallow.

 

He wants me. I can feel it. His body wants mine. I can’t believe this is finally happening. I feel heat and wetness between my legs. My breasts grow achingly heavy. Both parts of my body begging to be touched. Calling for his attention. My heart races in my chest. I can barely breathe.

 

His hands move from my hips down my legs- and find their way under my skirts. He pulls away from our kiss. Rests his forehead on my mine, eyes closed. Like he wants to concentrate all of his attention on the feeling of his hands touching me. His fingers slide up my legs, squeezing, savoring the softness of my thighs. He explores the thin fabric between my legs. Sopping wet. He opens his eyes and looks at me. His eyes are so beautiful. Deep, dark like chocolate. I stare back breathless with anticipation. He keeps his eyes on mine as he slips his hand under my panties slides his finger over my clit, applying pressure with his fingertip in a slow rocking motion. He reads my face, watching my reaction as he circles my clit and strokes my external folds.

 

It feels so good. My eyes close, neck arches back as I gasp with pleasure. I want so much more. I want him to consume me. To rip my clothes off and throw me over his desk and fuck me as hard as he can, I want him inside me. The slow pace is torture. I need to move. I need him to move against me. I grind my pelvis down against his lap. I hear myself whimpering, begging for more with my sounds. He kisses my neck-continuing his slow stroking. I try to translate the feeling into words. I hear myself begging. “Please...Nick….Please…”

 

I feel his hot breath in my ear. “Please what? … What do you want?” I can’t put the feeling into words. I think take me. All of me. Leave nothing. Destroy me. Ravish me. Love me until there’s nothing left. I’m yours. But I say none of this. I just tremble and repeat my plea. “Nick...Please...”

 

He watches me writhing against him. His voice is low and raspy. “You want more?” I nod, chest heaving. I’ve never wanted something this bad. I realize how helpless I am. I’m straddling him. His left hand holds my hips firmly against him, his right hand is between us. He’s completely in control of what happens next. My pleasure is his. My body is his.

 

He watches my face- I can see he’s really turned on by having me this worked up, this desperate. A small smile forms at the corner of his mouth. He’s enjoying drawing this out. Pushing me to the limits of my sanity. “You want me... to fuck you?” I moan again, nodding, eyes pleading with his. “Is that what you want?” He nods and kisses me softly, tongue exploring my mouth as he slides his middle finger inside me. Now we’re both moaning. My fingers grip his black curly hair. He plunges his finger deep, to the hilt, keeps it there, using the palm of his hand to cup my external womanhood and pulse against me. Watching my face. “Like this?” I ride his hand-rocking my hips back and forth. He pulses his hips up against mine. It feels like he’s fucking me. He moans. Watching me, eyes on mine- brows furrowed together. Breathing as hard as I am.  Pressure builds inside me. I’m going to climax soon. It can’t be stopped. I pull his hair harder. I feel my walls starting to clench around his finger, his next words are a broken jagged whisper. “Oh Serena... come for me.” I come hard. My walls clenching rhythmically around his hand. His breath hitches and he clenches his eyes shut, resting his forehead against mine as he comes too. Groaning softly.

 

He slides his finger out, gently rubbing my mound, my lips- smoothing the orgasm over. Patting me gently. Comforting me. He slides his hands out from under my skirts, kissing my lips gently as our breathing slows. He strokes my cheek. I smell myself on his fingers. I want to tell him I love him. I’m so in love with him. His husky voice. “You ok?” I nod. He wipes my tears with his thumb, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”  I laugh. “I’m ok.” He kisses me again. Pulls back. Eyes smiling into mine. “See you upstairs later?” I nod. He smiles. Kisses my forehead. “Ok. I’m gonna go do the dishes. I’ll be up soon. Sleep tight.”

 

I run upstairs. I lock and sit against the bathroom door as the bathtub fills. I have so many conflicting emotions. Part of me feels so wanton. So sinful. Part of me feels so vulnerable. I’ve never been fucked like that. And it wasn’t what I expected. It was passionate but there was no pain. Just peace. The pleasure is still humming through my body. And part of me feels so normal. Like I just made love with my husband. So hopeful. I never thought I’d be touched again...much less like that.

 

I see now why Nick didn’t want to rush into a sexual relationship. If that’s how he makes love. We are connected now. Our souls. Our hearts. Our minds. He goes all in. That’s not something you can fake. Love is vulnerability. And I’m his now. And he is mine.

 


End file.
